


Home for the Holidays

by timeladyofletters



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abusive Parents, Angst, Christmas, Christmas Angst, Christmas Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Holidays, Parental Abuse, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive, Romance, Swearing, Verbal Abuse, almost physical abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-08 20:35:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5512319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timeladyofletters/pseuds/timeladyofletters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Imagine Dean saving you from a disastrous Christmas dinner with your family, including your abusive father.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home for the Holidays

_I should have stayed at the bunker_ , you thought to yourself as you tried to sit through Christmas dinner with your family. _Or I should have at least let Dean come with me._  

Dean had offered to come with you, of course, but you knew how uncomfortable he would be around your intrusive family. It was bad enough that you had to endure it, you didn’t want to make him suffer too. So you put on a brave face and assured him that you could handle it before you left.

Over the course of the day, however, you began to question more and more whether or not you could handle being with your family. Ever since you arrived the night before, you had been bombarded with questions about your life and your job and what your plans were for the future. 

“So Y/N,” your nosy aunt asked her tenth question of the night, “why don’t you quit waitress-ing and go to college? I’m sure your dad will help you out if you moved back home.”

She was referring to your cover story - that you were a waitress at a small diner in Kansas. Of course, you couldn’t tell anyone what your _real_ job was.

You could feel the ill judgment coming off of her in waves. “No, it’s alright,” you said as politely as you could. “I like my job, and my home.”

“But it isn’t nice for a young lady to live on her own, so far away from her family.”

You narrowed your eyes at her condescending tone. “I’m not alone. I live with my boyfriend and his brother.”

Your aunt paled at your answer, but she didn’t get the chance to say anything else, because your father was suddenly gripping your arm and pulling you out of your seat.

“I need to talk to you, now,” he growled as he led you to a corner on the other side of the house. You were in trouble, you knew it. You had done something wrong in your father’s eyes, just like you always did, and now he was going to do something about it. No matter how old you got, no matter how far away you moved; you could never shake how scared you were of the man and his anger.

“Aren’t you ashamed of yourself?” he spat out once he was out of earshot from everyone else. “Do you have any idea how embarrassing it is to have to tell people that my kid is a fucking waitress who lives with two men and isn’t even married to one of them?”

You couldn’t bring yourself to answer, or to even look him in the eye. You could face down a monster with fangs and claws without hesitation, but this? This was what you were truly afraid of.

“Do you have any idea how ashamed I am to have a worthless slut for a daughter?”

The tears were trickling down your face now, and your eyes were locked to the floor. What your father was insinuating, you knew it wasn’t true at all. You were a hunter, a warrior, who saved lives on a regular basis. You were in a serious, committed relationship with the love of your life. Your father was so wrong about you.

“Fuck you,” you mumbled quietly while your father continued to rant.

He stopped suddenly, barely hearing your words, and stared at you in shock. “What did you just say?”

You took a deep breath. “I said - Fuck. You.”

You willed yourself to finally look up, just in time to see the shock on your father’s face shift into red hot rage. Then you registered as his arm reeled back, palm wide open, and you braced yourself for a slap that never came.

Instead, your father was jerked away from you and thrown against the opposite wall.

“DON’T YOU DARE TOUCH HER!” Dean roared in your father’s face, appearing out of nowhere. “Don’t you touch her, don’t you hit her, don’t even look at her.”

At this point, the rest of your family had gathered around to see what the commotion was about, but none of them were brave enough to intervene.

“Who the hell are you?” you father asked shakily, trying and failing to keep up a tough demeanor.

“I’m the man who loves your daughter, something you clearly don’t know how to do,” Dean snarled. “You make me sick. Y/N is the best person I’ve ever known. If you had any idea how amazing she is, you’d know that you have no right to even be near her.”

Your family members were all whispering among themselves, trying to figure out what the hell was going on, but you didn’t pay attention to them. You approached Dean and placed a hand on his arm. He turned his head to face you, and his green eyes softened as soon as they met yours.

“Dean, he’s not worth it. Let’s go,” you said gently. Dean watched you wearily, focusing on the wet streaks down your cheeks and the redness of your eyes, and then he looked back to your father. You knew what his protective instincts were telling him to do - to hurt your father so he could never hurt you again. But instead, he let him go and took your outstretched hand, following you to the door.

The both of you were almost out of the house when your father finally piped up. “See how my daughter is? She’s turning her back on her own family. Again.”

You couldn’t let him get in the last word, not anymore.

“No, I’m not,” you declared, whirling around to face him one last time. “You may have raised me, but you’re not my family. Dean is. Merry fucking Christmas.” Dean watched you in awe through your speech, and then he exited the house with you, hand in hand.

Both of you were silent during the cold walk to the Impala. When you got there, Dean turned you around to face him. His warm palms cupped your face, and this thumbs wiped away the fresh brimming tears from your eyes. He hugged you then, pulling you into the safety of his arms, and he planted a kiss to your hair.

“I’m sorry for not getting here sooner, Y/N. When I talked to you on the phone earlier, I knew something sounded off, so I came over here on a hunch. I’m sorry you had to go through that at all.”

“It’s okay,” you sniffled, tightening your hold on him. “I expected this, more or less.”

“Please just...don’t let the crap he said get to you.”

“I’ll try not to. And Dean? Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For sticking up for me. For protecting me.”

“Y/N,” he said quietly, resting his cheek on top of your head. “I love you, and I’ll always protect you. No need to thank me.”

It began to flurry a bit, and yet you and Dean still stood there, wrapped in each other.

“The last thing you said to that asshat was awesome, I’m so proud of you,” Dean grinned after a while.

A small laugh escaped from you. “Definitely one of my finest moments.”

Dean pulled back a bit so he could see you. “You ready to get the hell outta here and go back home so we can have a real Christmas?” he asked, carding his fingers through your hair.

Your first real smile of the day emerged at his words, and you pecked him on the lips before whispering against his skin, “Absolutely.”

**Author's Note:**

> I really wanted to write a fluffy one shot for Christmas, but then this happened. Hopefully I’ll have time to write something merry and festive soon. My holiday imagines (titled "A Very Supernatural Holiday Season", can be found under my works) are really sugary sweet though, so check those out if you want. Also, I’m sorry for how hasty and vague this one is. It started out as a short imagine, but then ran away from me.


End file.
